


First Meeting

by StarCrossedRebel



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCrossedRebel/pseuds/StarCrossedRebel
Summary: Hux and Ren's first meeting and everything that happens after.





	1. Chapter 1

Hux balanced his teacup and saucer in his hand as he stared out the viewport on the Bridge. Most officers grew tired of the tedium of space. Missions could last up to five years with little to no shore leave. He’d seen men driven to madness by the lifestyle. It always surprised him. His soldiers performed admirably in the heat of battle. Their minds were clear and sharp, ready to carry out orders to the very best of their abilities. It was never the threat of death or the pressures of active combat that got to them, it was the long stretches in between, when the ship was simply adrift in the never ending black vacuum of space. Sensory deprivation weighed heavily on the mind. In the same way silence could be deafening, the lack of scenery in space could be overwhelming. After a time, his soldiers began yearning for their trees and their birds and their blue skies, their worlds of color and noise and sweet air. 

Hux didn’t share the same sentiments as his soldiers. He was content with his life aboard the  _ Finalizer. _ For as long as he could remember, he was mesmerized by the stars. By the planets. By the science that governed them. Everything that moved did so because of underlying scientific principles. Space was a collection of very complicated problems with very simple solutions. It made sense. With the right maps and calculations, there was nothing that Hux couldn’t predict or control. Such a comfort was not a part of planetside life. People muddied the picture. There was no way to accurately predict their actions. Their emotions were guided by forces beyond Hux’s care or understanding. If he couldn’t apply mathematics to a situation, then he had no business entering it. His officer’s longed for a life that Hux simply couldn’t understand wanting. To willingly subject oneself to chaos was the ultimate form of madness. 

Hux took a sip of his Earl Grey tea. Space was cold—2.7 degrees Kelvin to be exact. The  _ Finalizer  _ had a state of the art heating system, but the cold still found a way to seep in. An age old chill had settled permanently into Hux’s bones. The tea warmed him. 

Hux took a moment to appreciate how perfect his life was at the moment. He was only 34, but he was the highest ranking general in the First Order. He personally designed the most ambitious weapon ever created in the history of the universe, and it was in the process of being built. And his chambers housed a loving cat and an extensive selection of tea and whiskey. What more could he want? What more did he need? 

_ An heir, Armitage, to carry on the Hux bloodline. If you can find someone desperate enough to marry you, that is.  _

Hux clamped down on his father’s voice playing in his head. The man had been dead for over ten years now. There was no need to listen to his scathing remarks. Besides, he was still young; there was still ample time to marry and produce an heir, after he secured his position in history.

“Sir, there’s an unidentified spacecraft approaching the  _ Finalizer _ .” 

Hux was pulled from his musings by Mitaka’s comment. He turned around to face his officer, teacup still in hand. “What’s the designation number on the ship?”

Mitaka shook his head, peering at the screen in front of him. “There’s no designation number, sir.”

“Any markings?” Hux asked.

Mitaka shook his head again. “There doesn’t appear to be any.” He projected the image on his screen onto the Bridge’s viewing screen. 

Hux furrowed his brow. The approaching ship appeared to be a First Order Upsilon-class command shuttle. Its folded wings and outfitted body were too distinct to mistake it for anything else. The only problem was the lack of markings. First Order ships were tagged with identification numbers, but where there should have been a number on the wing of the ship, there was only sleek black paint. It was also devoid of all other markings, those of pirates and the Resistance alike. It was a ghost ship. 

“Could be smugglers,” Mitaka suggested. 

Hux shook his head. That would account for the lack of markings, but smugglers would have hit lightspeed the moment they caught sight of the  _ Finazlier _ , not veered towards her. “Shields up,” Hux commanded. “Mitaka, try to make contact.” 

“Yes, sir,” Mitaka said. He immediately began fiddling with the switchboard at his station. He switched his comm on and began speaking into it. “Unidentifiable spacecraft, this is Lieutenant Mitaka of the First Order. You’re shuttle is approaching the Finalizer. We are a military ship and do not engage with civilians. Identify yourself.”

Hux took a sip of tea as he waited for a response. Quiet static filled the other end of the line. Mitaka pressed his finger to his ear again, activating his comm. 

“Unidentifiable spacecraft, this is Lieutenant Mitaka of the First Order. You’re shuttle is approaching the Finalizer. We are a military ship and do not engage with civilians. If you do not identify yourself, we will be forced to fire upon your shuttle.”

Silence. Mitaka looked at Hux. “Take us to code blue,” Hux said. “Fire a warning shot.”

“Preparing to fire,” Mitaka said. 

The Bridge exploded with activity. Officers began talking into their comms feverishly, relaying orders. Calculations were made and double checked. The canons were adjusted and loaded. Hux wasn’t too terribly concerned about the sudden turn of events. It was a single Upsilon-class shuttle. Shuttles of that design were equipped with a considerable amount of firepower, but not enough to take down a star destroyer, especially one with its shields up. Hux was just following protocol. Hopefully a warning shot from their ventricular canon would send them running for the hills. 

“Ready to fire, sir,” Mitaka said.

Hux took a sip of his tea and smiled. He really loved this part of his job. “Fire!” he commanded.

Hux watched as a red bolt of highly condensed plasma streaked through space. It disappeared just beneath the left wing of the shuttle, missing it by a matter of feet. That’s how precises the  _ Finalizer’s  _ canons were, another thing Hux was proud of. He had revolutionized the accuracy of canons. Their margin of error was so infinitesimal it might as well have been zero. 

“They’re still approaching sir,” Mitaka said.

Hux frowned at Mitaka’s assessment. He was right, of course. The shuttle had neither changed its course nor slowed its speed. It remained enroute to the _ Finalizer _ . Who in Palpatine’s name was aboard that shuttle? Was crazy enough to face off against the  _ Finalizer _ after being warned off?

“Could they be First Order?” Mitaka asked. 

“Highly unlikely,” Hux said, studying the shuttle on the screen. “They would have responded when we tried to make contact.”

“They haven’t shot at us yet,” Mitaka said. 

“That doesn’t make them friendly,” Hux said. “Whatever their intentions are, they can’t be good. We gave them a warning shot. Shoot them.”

“Preparing to fire,” Mitaka said.

“Fire!” Hux said. 

Once again, Hux watched as the cannon fired. The plasma bolt lanced through space, heading directly for the shuttle. It reached its target coordinates in less than a second, but right as it was about to hit, the shuttle swerved dramatically to the left, evading the attack entirely. Hux felt his jaw legitimately drop. Not only was the timing impressive, but Upsilon shuttles weren’t built for quick maneuvers like that. It was a near impossible feat. Whoever the pilot was, they knew what they were doing.

“They evaded, sir,” Mitaka said. 

“Yes, I can see that,” Hux replied testily. He reminded himself to stay calm. The situation was still completely under control and in his favor. A shuttle that small could only cause enough damage to be inconvenient, not detrimental. It was a fly buzzing around a bear. He just needed one shot. “Fire again,” he commanded. “Make sure we hit them this time.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitaka said. 

This time, they fired off three cannons, two pulses each. Six plasma bolts raced after the shuttle. The range they encompassed was wide enough that at least one was statistically guaranteed to hit. Hux didn't care who the pilot was, they couldn’t avoid all six shots, not with the accuracy of the canons. He turned his back to the screen and took a sip of tea. Crisis averted. 

“They evaded again, sir,” Mitaka said.

Hux nearly spit out his tea. “What?!” he demanded. He spun around to stare at the screen. Sure enough, the shuttle remained unscathed and on course. “How is that even possible?”

“They’re good, sir,” Mitaka said. “Whoever they are, they’ve had intensive training as a pilot.”

“Intensive training doesn’t outmatch the mathematical accuracy of our canons!” Hux shouted. He was beginning to take personal offense to the issue. “Fire all cannons! I want that shuttle obliterated.”

“Firing all cannons,” Mitaka confirmed.

Hux was momentarily blinded by the onslaught of light produced by the firing of the  _ Finazler’s _ two dozen cannons. Bright splotches were imprinted into his eyes. He watched, vindictive, as the shuttle was dwarfed and swallowed by a wave of red plasma. Any second now, a brilliant explosion would—

“Sir,” Mitaka said.

Hux couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He resisted the childish urge to pinch himself awake. The shuttle was performing a dance, dipping and spinning masterfully, gracefully evading each shot. Not a single scratch marred its sleek black paint. It came out of onslaught completely untouched. It was like a wraith moving through water. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Mitaka said to himself. His voice was quiet with shock.

Hux silently agreed. When he went through the Academy, flight training was mandatory. Students began training at the age of six and didn’t officially stop until 18. Hux had graduated at the top of his class, which meant he was technically the best pilot in the Academy. Even still, he couldn’t imagine pulling off what their annoying friend here just did. 

“Sir, what are your orders?” Mitaka asked. 

Hux considered his options. He could fire at the shuttle some more, but that was proving to be a wildly ineffective strategy, plus a massive waste of ammo. There was also the matter of the shuttle’s passivity. It hadn’t fired back a single shot and had yet to show signs of malicious intent. They could be friendly, or at the very least neutral. And then there was Hux’s own curiosity to contend with. Who was the mysterious pilot?

Hux almost couldn’t believe what he was about to order, but the situation left him with no other options. “Lower the shields,” he commanded. 

Mitaka’s hands paused over his switchboard. “Sir?” he asked, as if he had misheard. 

“Lower the shield,” Hux repeated firmly. He took a steadying sip of his tea. “We’re going to let them in.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitaka said. Hux could see that his brow was furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t question his general’s orders. He pulled the lever to deactivate the shields. 

The shuttle was nearly upon them now.  It was finally beginning to deaccelerate as it neared the  _ Finazlier’s  _ shuttle bay. Hux turned on his heal with his tea and walked down the plank of the Bridge.

“When that shuttle lands, I want it locked down,” Hux commanded.  

“But where are you going, sir?” Mitaka asked. 

“To meet our mysterious pilot,” Hux said over his shoulder. He would oversee their capture personally. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hux reached the shuttle bay just as the troublesome shuttle was landing. The bay with teeming with First Order personnel, deck officers speaking quickly into ear pieces and stormtroopers filing into close ranks. Everyone was on high alert, apprehensive of the incredibly unconventional turn of events. Allowing an unidentified spacecraft to board the Finalizer was lunacy, possibly even heresy. But Hux was confident in his ability to handle the situation. Their mysterious pilot might have been able to evade attack in space, but within the confines of the shuttle bay? There was no where for them to go; they were trapped. 

Of course, this thought was more troubling than it was comforting. He had two hundred and eighty highly trained stormtroopers swarming the shuttle. That was two hundred and eighty guns pointed at a single ship. There were also the shuttle bay's mounted wall cannons to contend with, which were meant to be used in case the of an emergency breach. The Finalizer was a military ship, a next generation star destroyer; they had a considerable amount of firepower at their disposal. The pilot would have known all of this, and yet they still chose to persevere. Something was obviously amiss. They risked death to board the Finalizer. Either that, or they were arrogant enough to believe that they could board the Finalizer without issue. Neither prospect was appealing to Hux. There was a deeper plot that he was going to get to the bottom of. He would start with the capture and interrogation of the pilot. 

Up close, Hux could make out more details about the shuttle. He was right in thinking that it was of Upsilon class, but he also noticed that it had been customized. The nose was more pointed, the body was more compact, and the wings were hinged in three places, not two, allowing for a wider range of motion at faster speeds. The pilot was skilled, but his maneuvers were partly accomplished by the design of the shuttle. They cheated. 

A cloud of steam billowed from the entry ramp seal. A high whine filled the air as it slowly began to lower. Hux felt the shuttle bay tense in anticipation as the dark interior of the shuttle was revealed. From its inscrutable depths, a tall, bulky figure clad in black robes appeared. Based off the figure's build, Hux guessed they were male, but it was impossible to be sure; their face was hidden by an ugly helmet. 

The pilot stopped at the top of the ramp. Their head swiveled from side to side as they took in the enormity of the shuttle bay. The stormtroopers stood at attention in unison, their armor chinking together in a resounding sound of warning. One hundred and eighty blasters hovered in the air. The pilot froze. Hux felt his body still in response, waiting to see what they would do. Had they realized they had just made a massive mistake? Would they jump back into the pilot's seat and try to make a run for it? Hux wouldn't allow it, but it was an amusing thought. What idiot boarded a star destroyer alone and in a shuttle?

The pilot's head turned sharply, landing uncannily on Hux. Hux couldn't see through the black visor of the helmet, but he knew with a strange certainty that he was being stared at, singled out. He felt his heart speed up. He raised his chin imperceptibly and straightened out his stance. Belatedly, he realized he still had his teacup and saucer in his hand. It was too late to do anything about it now. He had to play it off. He took a sip. His tea had gone cold. 

The pilot titled their head to the side, almost in contemplation, before breaking from their mold. They descended the ramp with heavy steps, the thud of their boots echoing off the walls. Hux took this as his cue. He detached himself from his stormtroopers and went to meet the pilot at the bottom of the ramp. On the way over, his comm crackled. Mitaka's high pitched voice filled his ear. "Sir-"

Hux cut him off immediately. "Not now, Mitaka," he said under his breath, barely moving his lips. His attention was focused on the pilot. 

"But-"

"Later," Hux hissed. He switched his comm off. He was coming face to face with the pilot.

In the privacy of his mind, Hux could admit that the pilot was an imposing figure. They were only a few inches taller than Hux, but their shoulders were at least twice his width and bulky with muscle. They wore heavy black robes over a black tunic and black pants. Not even a millimeter of their skin was exposed, preventing Hux from further deducing their species. Their helmet was made of some sort of metal and badly dented in some places. Something dark and flaky was crusted on the side of it. Dirt? Blood? Hux couldn't tell. The small pistol he kept in the pocket of his greatcoat was suddenly a very comforting weight, though. 

Hux stopped a few feet away from the pilot and smiled amiably as the stormtroopers readied their blasters. They would fire at the mere flick of Hux's wrist. The pilot, for their part, remained impassive, their hands at their sides. Their helmet was tilted just so, their attention focused singularly on Hux. It sent an odd shiver down Hux's spine. 

Hux cocked his brow at the pilot and took a sip of his tea. He refused to me intimidated by the black figure standing before him. He would handle the situation with an air of nonchalance so insulting that it would make the pilot think twice about their actions. The last thing Hux wanted was the pilot to know how impressed he was by their skill. More than impressed, shocked. He didn't want the pilot's arrogance developing into a sense of confidence. A confident enemy could be vastly more dangerous than a skilled enemy. 

"So," Hux said, staring into the milky depths of his tea distractedly, "what business bring you to my ship?"

There was a sound like static before the pilot's voice came through a vocoder, the affect warping their voice into something deep and scratchy. "I've come to take command of this vessel."

Hux was surprised by the sharp bark of laughter that burst from his mouth. He heard his officers snickering behind him. Usually, Hux would scold them for their unprofessionalism, but right now their reaction was serving his purposes. 

"That's very ambitious of you," Hux said. "How are you planning on taking control of an entire star destroyer?"

"By walking onto the Bridge, General." The pilot took a step closer to Hux, making the difference in their height more pronounced. It was a cheap intimidation tactic. Hux remained rooted to the spot.

Hux smiled. "Why don’t I give you a personal escort, then?" He raised his hand and two stormtroopers broke from their ranks and came forward. One kept their blaster trained on the pilot while the other one approached with handcuffs. 

"If your men come any closer," the pilot said, "I will kill them."

Hux took a sip of his tea, unconcerned. "Kill them," he said, "and another one hundred and seventy eight will be on you."

The pilot clenched his gloved fists. It was the first reaction Hux had seen out of them. "I will kill all of them."

Hux placed the teacup back in its saucer. He felt his brow furrow. "I can't tell if you're crazy," he said, "or just stupid."

Something suspiciously close to a growl emanated from the masked pilot. "Come closer, General, and I will tell you."

Hux whipped his pistol out of his greatcoat pocket and took three quick steps towards the pilot. He pushed the barrel into the pilot's chest, his hands so steady that is tea remained undisturbed. "Tell me," he said. 

The pilot stilled, though Hux suspected it had little to do with fear. He stared challenging into the helmet's visor, daring the pilot to make a move. He could feel the pilot's eyes boring into his own. It was unsettling. He cocked the hammer of his pistol. "Tell me," Hux said again, "are you crazy, or stupid?"

Just as the vocoder crackled with the beginning of the pilot's response, Mitaka burst in the shuttle bay, red faced and panting. He looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. His eyes flew wildly around until they landed on Hux, then he broke into a run, barreling past officers and stormtroopers. Hux lowered his pistol and turned away from the pilot; their attention was focused on Mitaka too.

Mitaka stumbled to a stop in front of Hux and held out his hand. "This is for you," he said in a rush. It was a portable holographic devise. The blue light was blinking, which meant there was a transmission waiting to be received. "It's Leader Snoke." 

Hux felt his stomach drop. He pocketed his pistol, snatched the devise from Mitaka's hand and accepted the transmission. Blue light fanned out in front of him and Snoke's grisly face materialized. 

Hux bowed his head slightly. "Leader Snoke. I did not realize we had a meeting scheduled. I apologize for my negligence." 

Snoke peered at Hux with his beady eyes, his face inscrutable as always. Hux resisted the urge to nervously swallow, wondering if he would be publicly punished for his insolence. Surely Snoke would understand given the highly unusual situation with the pilot. 

A sickly smile spread its way across Snoke's face. "I see that I am too late in warning you," he said. He leaned back in his throne and lifted a weathered finger. "My apprentice has already reached you."

A split second of confusion was followed by the terrible realization. The truth crashed into Hux like a star destroyer hitting light speed. It left him breathless, speechless. Dread coiled low in his gut. He turned imperceptibly on his heel, catching the "pilot" in his peripherals. Details fell into place, providing him with the complete picture-the unmarked ship, the pilot's skill, their arrogance. Fear and rage welled inside of Hux, warred for dominance. The teacup rattled quietly in its saucer. He fought back a string of creative curses. Snoke's apprentice. He had just aimed his pistol at Snoke's apprentice, had asked him if he was stupid. 

"General Hux," Snoke said, breaking Hux out of his spinning thoughts, "this is my apprentice, Kylo Ren. I'm giving him joint command of the ship. When he's not off board, you are to work together on missions. He is not above your jurisdiction, and you are not above his. Both of you will continue to receive orders from me. A failure to cooperate will result in severe punishment. Do not displease me." Snoke cut the transmission. 

Hux reeled from the sudden turn of events. He felt every pair of eyes in the shuttle bay on him, waiting to see what he would do next. He had no plan, no sense of direction. He turned on his heel and faced Kylo Ren. The man had not moved. He watched Hux with the same impassivity. Hux opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was at a loss for words. That never happened. He struggled to find a way to rectify the situation, to both save face and placate. Why hadn't Kylo Ren told him who he was in the first place?! Did he want to cause a scene? To embarrass Hux? To establish some sort of authority?

Kylo Ren took a step forward. The vocoder crackled to life. The shuttle bay held it's breath, everyone, including Hux, waiting to see what the man would do. 

Kylo Ren leaned his head down, bringing his helmet to the side of Hux's ear. "Tell me, General," he said, and paused. There was a rush of static, like a huff of laughter. "Are you crazy, or just stupid?" 

And with that, Kylo Ren brushed past Hux, his robes sweeping behind him. He stomped out of the shuttle bay. Nobody tried to stop him. The stormtroopers sprang apart, giving him a clear path out. Hux watched him go, absolutely speechless. Kylo Ren's words were spoken to him, but they were loud enough for everyone to hear. He hadn't experienced that level of humiliation since he was a boy, since his father was alive. He hadn't screwed up this monumentally since then. But it wasn't his fault! If Kylo Ren had simply identified himself, none of this would have happened. It lead Hux to believe that Kylo Ren had acted with the intentions of this being the outcome-Hux's degradation. 

Rage bubbled up in Hux. His hands began shaking. He handed Mitaka his teacup without a word and marched after Kylo Ren, leaving everyone in the shuttle bay behind. Adrenaline made his heart pump harder, made his breathing harsh. He felt like a school boy preparing for a fight on the yard. He didn't plan on losing. 

"Kylo Ren!" Hux shouted once he reached the hallway. The man was near the end of it, about to turn the corner. He stopped in his tracks when he heard Hux, his shoulders hunched, before he looked over his shoulder. Hux gritted his teeth. His hands were balled into fists he wasn't sure he was going to use yet. "A word, if you please." 

Kylo Ren turned fully around, but he didn't come any closer; he remained at the end of the hallway. He was waiting for Hux to come to him. Hux's vision flashed white. He couldn't remember ever being this angry, not even at his father. He closed the space between them with quick strides, stopping perhaps a bit too close. He glared into the visor, furious that he couldn't see the man's face. The urge to punch the ridiculous helmet was so strong he had to clasp his trembling hands behind his back. 

"Mitaka hailed you twice," Hux said, spitting the words out. "Why didn't you respond?"

"I did not think I had to identify myself to board my own ship," Kylo Ren said.

Hux's hackles raised at the man's answer. The Finalizer was not his ship, she was Hux's. He's the one who had designed her, had outfitted her with state of the art weaponry, had captained her for five years now. There was no way he was going to let some asshole jump aboard and take control. 

"This isn't your ship," Hux said. "And this is a military vessel. We don't just let anyone on board. Identifying yourself is protocol."

Kylo Ren shrugged his shoulders. "I am not under First Order jurisdiction. I am under Snoke's command. Your rules don't apply to me."

Hux sneered. "Then have fun getting shot down in space." 

There was that rush of static again, what Hux suspected was laughter. Already he was learning to hate the noise. 

"I've seen your canons in action, General," Kylo Ren said. "I don't think I have anything to be worried about."

Hux felt his control snap. Before he was consciously aware of it, his fist was swinging at Kylo Ren's face. Or rather, his helmet. The impact would probably hurt his hand, but he was beyond caring at this point. Causing some sort of damage was all that mattered now. The man had insulted him one too many times. 

Hux's fist stopped a mere inch away from the visor. It was as if it had collided with an invisible wall. When he tried to draw his hand back, it wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he strained his muscles. His fist hovered in the air, trapped. Fear sparked inside his chest.

Kylo Ren took a step closer. "Do not mistake me, General," he said, "for one of your men. I am not under your command. If you raise your hand at me again, I will break it." 

Hux tugged at his fist. "What is this?" he hissed. 

"This is the Force," Kylo Ren said. "And this is nothing compared to my full power. Test me again, and I will give you a personal demonstration. Do we have an understanding?"

The grip around Hux's fist dissipated. He drew it back to his body and shoved it into the pocket of his greatcoat. He fiddled with his pistol. Rage seemed like a small word to describe his feelings now. He was absolutely murderous. Screw the fear, he was going to find a way to get Kylo Ren off his ship. The lines had been drawn, the game had been set. This was a battlefield now, and Hux never lost a war. 

"Yes," Hux said. "I believe we do."

Kylo Ren didn't say anything. He simply turned around and walked away, continuing down the hallway. Hux stared after him, again briefly shocked by his antics. There was just no predicting the man's actions. 

"Excuse me," Hux called, "but where do you think you're going?"

"To my rooms," Kylo Ren said. "The officer's quarters are this way. I've already memorized the outline of the ship. No need to 'escort' me."

Hux deliberated. He didn't want the man anywhere near him, but at the same time, he needed to keep an eye on him. Getting to know the enemy was the first step in any war. He needed to learn the man's schedule, his habits, his like and dislikes, his strengths and weaknesses. That would be much easier to accomplish if he lived closer to Hux. 

Hux hated what he was about to do, but it was necessary. "High ranking personnel have separate quarters," he said. "Your chambers are on the seventh floor, next to mine."

Kylo Ren stilled. "So I'm high ranking personnel?" he asked. 

Hux bristled. "We also stick guests there."

"I am not a guest."

"No," Hux said, his voice lowering an octave," but you may find that your stay aboard my ship will be short."

Kylo Ren turned around. "Is that a threat?" 

Hux smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it, 'Ren.' Let me show you to your chambers."


	3. Chapter 3

Hux walked stiffly down the Finalizer’s hallways, nodding at his men as he passed by. He didn’t slow his gait or look over his shoulder to make sure Ren was following. He didn’t need to. Ren’s footsteps were so heavy they echoed off the walls. A bantha would have been quieter. And preferable.

Everyone they passed by wore a similar expression; it was a strange mixture of fear and curiosity. While his officers sprang apart like startled porgs to let them through, their eyes strained in their skulls to get a look at Ren. Hux tried not to be annoyed by the natural authority Ren seemed to possess. If this was the response he evoked just from walking by, Hux didn’t want to know what it was like when he was actually giving orders. He might legitimately kill someone just by looking at them. 

The hallways became less populated the closer they got to the residential areas of the ship. The night shift was fast asleep, and the day shift was hard at work. The few officer’s Hux did pass by almost looked more shocked to see Hux off the Bridge than they did to see the behemoth walking behind him. 

Almost.

As they went along, Hux remained silent. He made no attempts to engage in civil conversation or to explain the vast amenities the Finalizer offered. He made no mention of the synthetic beach or the galactic swimming pool, the holographic screening room or the karaoke bar. He didn’t want Ren getting comfortable aboard his ship. Although he was more or less backed up into a corner at the moment, he was confident he could devise a plan to get Ren off his ship. Ordinarily, he would never even dream of disobeying Snoke, but clearly the Supreme Leader had misjudged his apprentice. He was nothing but a troublesome fool. Hux would only be failing Snoke if he allowed Ren to remain within the Order. 

They came to a stop in front of a large, locked door, reinforced with Maldonian steel. This marked the end of the general officer’s quarters. Next to the door was a wall panel with a blue screen. The door could only be unlocked with a specific password and a fingerprint. Hux didn’t bother sharing this information with Ren. While he hadn’t devised his grand plan to oust Ren yet, he didn’t mind being extraordinarily petty in the meantime. 

Hux entered his personal password (Millicent) and scanned his fingerprint. The door swished open, revealing another long hallway. It was only a short walk to Ren’s new chambers from there. He stopped outside an indistinct door, directly opposite from his own, and entered the Master password. When the door opened, he stepped inside, Ren following close behind him. 

All of the chamber’s, minus a few personal touches, were identical. They had the same outline, complete with one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchenette, and a living room. The Order provided a bed and sheets, a couch, a coffee table, basic cooking utensils, and a mini holographic TV. The TV was mostly useless in Hux’s opinion. They only broadcasted First Order propaganda, most of which was Hux’s own speeches. 

Hux watched as Ren took in his new surroundings. His helmet prevented Hux from seeing any of his reactions. As the apprentice of such a rich and powerful being, he imagined Ren was accustomed to luxury. He was probably used to sleeping on feathered mattresses and silk pillows. He was bathed by servants and lathered in fancy smelling soaps and lotions. All of his meals were served on silver platters and made with organic, planet side ingredients. It made Hux internally smile to know that Ren wouldn’t be spoiled like a little prince here. Maybe Ren would even leave on his own, shocked by the simple living conditions. 

There was that same rush of static from Ren’s vocoder, like laughter. Hux ignored it. He finally spoke. “These will be your chambers during your stay aboard the Finalizer. There’s your bedroom, your bathroom, and your kitchen. This is your living room. As you can see, it’s rather sparse. You’re free to add any personal touches, so long as they’re not permanent.” 

Ren turned in a slow half circle, looking around. “Personal touches?” he asked. 

Hux clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, personal touches,” he said again. “Like pictures or rugs or posters or…” Hux trailed off, thinking. What sorts of things did people usually collect and add to their homes? “Houseplants?” he guessed at last. 

Ren looked at Hux. “Do you own a lot of houseplants, General?” 

Hux was reminded of a little fern he had tried to keep when he first moved in to the Finalizer. He’d never had a plant before, but he figured it couldn’t be that hard. He designed high powered space weapons, for stars sake, what was a little botany compared to that? The fern was dead within a matter of days, brown and brittle.

“No,” Hux said, “space air doesn’t agree with them.”

Ren tilted his head. “What sort of ‘personal touches’ do you have in your chambers, then, General?” he asked. 

Hux thought about Millicent, his cat. She was an orange shorthair with bright green eyes, and she was the only thing in the universe Hux loved. She was probably curled up in a ball on his bed as they were speaking, fast asleep and waiting for Hux’s return. She liked to sit in Hux’s lap while he read. 

Hux wasn’t about to tell Ren this, of course. Instead, he smiled and said, “I’m a licensed weapons engineer. I’m sure you can imagine the sorts of things I have in my chambers.”

It sounded like Ren huffed. “I’m sure I can,” he said. 

Hux wasn’t sure he liked Ren’s tone. Somehow he managed to sound smug even with the vocoder.


End file.
